Burnout Reincarnation [SLOW BURN COZY 'MAGIC CRAFTING' KINGDOM BUILDING PROGRESSION] (LitRPG elements) [3 arcs done!]

The Dungeon was like an old friend now. An old friend that had been tamed, or perhaps lobotomized.

Archmund had led Beatrice, Rory, Gelias, and Mary into the Dungeon a few times over the course of the winter, to test their abilities. Never going deep enough to face true danger, never going more than two hours from the return to the living world, never into true danger. Never out of the First Tier.

He was hesitant to bring them into danger at first. He didn't want to have more blood on his hands. But they were responsible nobles who had sworn themselves to defending the Empire and her peoples, and they were getting into.

In theory.

They ran across many Seven-Fingered Starbeasts on those journey, even though they'd stayed in the Upper Subtier. Maybe that meant the mad instinct of the Middle Subtier was being refined, commoditized, leaking into the upper world.

He could stay hands-off in those early forays, merely watching from afar.

Rory, getting up close and personal, Taunting the Starbeast, drawing its lashing tentacles to his Gemstone Staff. A stray tentacle would slip through and strike him, but his Bodily Barrier was strong enough to protect him.

Was the beast weaker than the one Archmund had fought all those months ago, or were they stronger? He had no way to tell without a way to measure Monster strength and Rory's strength.

Gelias stayed at range, peppering the beast as he cried [Let A Thousand Arrows Fly]. It was ineffective; the shots tinked off the starbeast's hide like wood against porcelain.

The Starbeast had kept the form of the one Archmund had fought earlier, and like many thick-hided monsters, it easily shrugged off that barrage of small but myriad shots that would fell a peasant uprising.

So Gelias changed his tactics to let [The Winds Bear The Arrow], which sliced through the tentacles of the Starbeast, forcing it to regenerate.

Beatrice had vanished. For all Archmund knew, she could be fleeing to the living world. But whenever the Starbeast was in a state of discombobulation, if Gelias had sliced off its tentacles and Rory had drawn its attention and it was just beginning to regenerate, she appeared from the shadows and stabbed the beast's core.

Mary stayed back, with him.

They were fast. They were deadly. They managed to kill the beast without his help.

He could've boiled it from within using his Microwave if he needed to, but he was glad he didn't have to. Even now he remembered the smell, like microwaved fish.

He had to admit his sense of powerscaling was off. Killing it the first time had been an ordeal. It had taken the unified powers of himself and Mercy Stirpstredecim di Omnio, who was actually the crown princess, as well as the support of four soldiers in Gemstone Gear.

Was the Monster weak because it had journeyed up into the Upper Subtier? Were they strong because they were nobles, even if they only had a winter of training?

Or was the Starbeast weakened by the unknown taming magic worked by the Princess Angelina Grace Marca Prima Omnio?

Even as his noble posse exulted at this victory, as they picked away at the Starbeast's hide, at its ceramic plates and its rubber core, sorrow clawed at his heart.

The last time he'd been here, it had been with her. Sure, she was in disguise as Mercy Stirpstredecim di Omnio. And she was with her own posse of personal bodyguards. And he'd been along with her as a courtesy.

But they'd come to an understanding. He really thought they understood each other. He'd been reckless, but she'd ended up trusting him.

And then he failed to plan properly, and people got killed, and she no longer trusted him enough to let the Dungeon develop naturally.

Something had changed in this place on a metaphysical level. He needed to change it back, or accept it as it was and adapt his plans for it.

"You're brooding," Mary said. He winced.

"I let it show?"

"I know you quite well, Archie," she said. "It'd be a wonder if they don't get suspicious of… our relationship."

"All nobles have personal servants, don't they?"

"Personal servants that they give Gemstone Gear to?"

"I thought that was the point, to trap them in unfair working conditions—"

"Which looks quite suspicious, since you've never been anything but polite and graceful with me. Don't change the subject. What's wrong?"

"Does it feel different in here to you?" he said.

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"I've never been this far deep," she said. "What are you talking about?"

"Lighter. Easier," he said. "Less oppressive of the soul."

Mary frowned. He didn't expect her to sense much, since she'd had trouble using magic.

"Yeah…" she said, slowly. "It's almost. Safe?"

He nodded and turned his attention back to the other nobles, who had finished butchering the Starbeast and harvesting its loot. All of its magical energies had been expended in the fight, regenerating its form and developing physical defenses, so it had no Gem-heart.

"Safe," Archmund said, raising an eyebrow.

"Safe like a duel instead of a fight to a death," she said. "You can get injured, but it won't kill you."

He wondered exactly when she'd felt her life was in danger.

"I want," Beatrice said, holding up the rubbery bits of the Starbeast's hide and comparing it with Archmund's outfit, "a cloak like yours."

Archmund blinked like a deer in the headlights.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Mary said, pulling at Archmund's lapel. "Same material, I think. Keeps the water off, but weirdly breathable somehow. Flexible enough to cut, but self-heals if you pour magic into it."

"Why don't we set up a farm here, then?" Beatrice said. "Funnel these 'Starbeasts' here, take them out, and make cloaks of the material. I'm sure they'd sell like hotcakes throughout all the noble houses."

She really seemed to like his cloak. But it was his cloak, which he'd won himself by killing a Starbeast himself, and she'd have to get one made for herself.

And it was his Dungeon, kind of. Even now, even after whatever mysterious spell the Princess had cast on it had sealed its true power and evil away. So it rankled him, somewhat, to hear that Beatrice wanted to extract value all on her own, sapping the metaphysical energies of the weakened Seven-Fingered Starbeasts to make a clothing line.

"Seems like a waste of time," he said. He wanted to delve deeper and deeper into the Dungeon, chasing its secrets, breaking the seals that had been placed on it and hollowing out all its power for himself.

That was one of two options. Hollow out all the wealth of the Dungeon now, in its diminished state, and invest it in the upper world, using it to catapult himself to a life of untold ease and convenience and letting the Dungeon die—

Or break the seals on the Dungeon, turn it into a sustainable source of income for the town, and draw adventurers and center the economy around conquest and Dungeon Industry—

Both had their upsides. But the first one didn't run the risk of Monsters breaking free and killing a large number of innocent people.

He'd been foolish not to consider that as an actual possibility.

But the truth was that he didn't have to drag them into this. He could leave them up here, in the highest levels of the Dungeon, which he'd already fought through once. Up here was a known quantity. Up here, it was safe — as much as a passage to Hell could be. Up here, she could run her cloak business and sell garments across the Empire and he could get a nice cut of that as Dungeon taxes.

That was an option.

It took about another month, when the days were starting to lighten and the snows were thinning, before it was clear to him that they'd stopped getting meaningfully stronger.

The starbeasts just weren't a meaningful challenge to them anymore.

The various skeletons and other ghosts, too.

And the monstrous horses? Not at all. Not when isolated, kept apart from each other, prevented from Amalgamating into Centaurs or other stronger beasts.

And if they weren't strengthening, well.

He was relieved to realize that it wasn't just him. He hadn't hit his spiritual metaphysical cap.

He just needed stronger opponents.

His stats hadn't increased either, except for charisma, which had gone up 1 point from being forced to socialize. His stats were perfectly adequate to conquer the dangers he was currently facing, and so were theirs.

The only gain he got from waiting here, from fighting opponents he surpassed, was increased Attunement levels with his Gems. He checked those:

He was Attuned to almost all of his gear. But there was only so much he could do by practice dueling. It had taken him a night to Awaken his Ruby of Energy. He had gone months without Awakening his Gemstone Rapier or Quartz of Barrier.

He could only conclude he was getting too comfortable.

They could stay here if they really wanted to. He wasn't going to force them into danger. They could harvest the fruits of the Dungeon and make their petty industry and extract what value they could before it all ran dry…

But he wouldn't.

Until he had some actual change, he wouldn't progress.

After a month and a half of Dungeon delving, he took them to the end of the Upper Tier. To that false mirror of Granavale Dungeon beneath the earth.

For once, it was quiet. No monsters lurked waiting to ambush them from the darkness. But they knew he was up to something. He'd packed as many supplies as he could — food, water, bandages — even if the Dungeon occasionally was generous with the victuals it provided.

Their fighting hadn't been for naught. All of them had a fair bit of Gemstone loot, and each of them wore a cloak made of Starbeast rubber-leather.

Rory was unsuited for quick assassinations, showing his power most strongly in long drawn-out confrontations, but Beatrice and Gelias both could strike at Monsters before they properly spawned. Gelias, as an elf, paid little mind to the Gems he won, though, and gave them to Rory directly.

In theory, each of them had a full set of Gems. A great bit of wealth.

But these Gems felt weaker, less pure than the ones Archmund had won on his first foray into the Dungeon. They were degraded somehow, whether by the Princess's sealing magic or simply by virtue of being "respawns". As much wealth as these Gems might have been, they were only comparable to the natural wealth of their counties.

Especially, for example, the Blackstone coal reserves.

They could have strengthened more, Archmund now suspected. By charging up Gems, integrating them with their souls, and Awakening more and more of them.

And the process would just take so long, when Gems of higher density and quality would doubtless be in the Second Tier.

He wasn't going to force them to come with him, but he was going.

Whether they came or not.